442 
FOREST A.ND STREAM. 
[June io, 1890, 
Pioneer Days.— IL 
BY ROWLAND E. ROBINSON. 
JosiAH Hill was up betimes next morning and pres- 
ently engaged in preparations for his suddenly conceived 
plan of departure. The £10 were paid down, the deed 
acknowledged and in his possession, and Anthony 
Capron mounted his horse and rode away southward 
with a self-satisfied smile on his sanctimonious face. The 
Allen brothers rode northward on the way to their ex- 
tensive purchases "in the Grants, with which their fortunes 
were henceforth to be so intimately connected. 
Josiah owned a yoke of oxen and a new cart, with 
which the journey was to be made, and it was now loaded 
with a barrel of pork and another of corn meal, blan- 
ket* and bed quilts, his own and the hunter's guns and 
traps, axes, a kettle and frying-pan, and such indispensa- 
ble articles of backwoods life. There was also a bounti- 
ful supply of cooked provisions for the long journey — 
loaves of rye and Indian bread, baked pork and beans and 
a bag of New England's staple luncheon, the well-be- 
loved doughnut, whereof they were to see no more for 
many a month. 
By the middle of the forenoon they were ready to set 
forth, good-byes were said, and with an interested audi- 
ence of the greater part of the hamlet's population, they 
began the long, slow Journey. The oxen swayed along 
the rough road; the cart creaked with jolting over it, and 
the two adventurers, seated on a board laid across tlie 
cart body, turned their baqks on homes and friends. 
From the last hilltop of the valley they looked back on 
the smooth green fields, the snug homesteads, the wind- 
ing river and its mills, the maple woodlands kindling 
witk the first blaze of autumnal tints, and heaved a sigh 
of regret for all they were leaving behind. 
Thus they passed out of Connecticut and into Massa- 
chusetts and across it, along traveled highways, through 
improved lands and by established homesteads, where 
shade trees of second groAvth shaded door-yard and well 
and roadside, and brooks babbled through broad mead- 
ows in unbroken sunshine, and cattle grazed in grassy 
pastures — so old that the stumps and debris of the for- 
mer forest were no longer seen. Everj^ few iniles thej' 
came to some village on a stream, widi its saw mill and 
grist mill, its store and blacksmith's and cooper's shops, 
its tavern, with its hospitable sign and inviting road- 
side nearness. There was the meeting house standing 
beside its increasing encampment of the dead — the green 
tents where the pioneers of tlie wilderness, the old Indian 
fighters and advance guard of the peaceful army of in- 
vasion slept the long, dreamless sleep, with many of the 
generation that came after them to reap where they had 
sown. Sometimes the travelers stopped for the night at 
a hospitable farm house, sometimes at a wayside inn — 
always welcomo at either, with their budget of news from 
the lower countrj'-, which became fresher and rarer the 
further carried. 
Gradually the oxen crept toward the verge of the for- 
est and dragged the red cart into the broad belt of scat- 
tered new farms, separated by increasing miles of for- 
ests and stretches of road, always growing worse with 
deep ruts, quagmires and ruinous bridges. So they came 
to a fortified blockhouse, an outpost of the old frontier, 
and rude memorial of the days of constant peril and fre- 
qwent alarm. They came to poorer nightly quarters in 
one-roomed log houses, and at last to camping in or 
under the body of the cart by outdoor fires, and so by 
degrees passed out of civilization into the wild, rude life 
of the pioneer. 
Once in the dusk of nightfall thej"- reached a strag- 
gling hamlet and were searching for its inn when the 
tired oxen started at some object near a house. Looking 
for the cause, the travelers saw a great panther standing 
on a cross piece at the top of a post and knew that this 
was the famous Catamount Tavern of Landlord Fay, at 
Bennington, the headquarters of the Green Mountain 
Boj^s, whose fame was already extending beyond the bor- 
ders of the infant commonwealth. Great beams of light 
stretched out from the windows of the cheerful bar- 
room athwart the road and faded out in the gloom of the 
opposite field, save where one maple's scarlet and yel- 
low foliage caught the full glare and glowed like a tower 
of fire. A company of a dozen stalwart men were gath- 
ered, smoking, drinking and chatting, desisting a mo- 
ment to regard the two travelers as they entered. Con- 
spicuous among the company was the burly figure of 
Ethan Allen, standing with his back to the fireplace and 
discoursing loudly upon whatever topic came upper- 
most. 
"Ah!" he cried, glaring at the newcomers as they con- 
ferred with Landlord Fay concerning the disposal of 
their team, "two more recruits for the army of the Lord. 
And where might you be bouiid, my friends?" 
"As far as the Little Otter, nigh the lake," Dalrym- 
ple answered, setting his rifle with Josiah's in a corner, 
where they underwent inspection by many lovers of 
guns. 
"That's right," said Allen. "Settle on the Streams; 
they're the first paths of the wilderness, an open way 
summer and winter, and we want to head ofif the Yorkers 
on all of them. Stub and I and One-Eyed Tom, here," 
indicating a sedate gentleman, with a defective eye, who 
sat near him, "have kept that in mind, and we've made 
jyitches twenty mile beyond you, on the Onion River. 
Perhaps we'll call some day as we are passing." 
"You'll be welcome," said Kinelm and Josiah, in the 
same breath. 
"You've taken your right under New Hampshire?" 
Allen asked, with a sudden searching look. 
"In course I have," said Josiah. "I guess ev'rybody 
aour way does that." 
"Mostly," said the other: "but there be some that prays 
to the good Lord and the good devil, not knowing which 
hands they'll fall into; but you stick to the Lord's side, 
my friend, an' you'll come out top. If the Yorkers trou- 
ble you, let us know. Give me your names, please." 
He wrote them down, with the name and number of 
his location in a memorandum book, and turned away 
to confer with two men of very noticeable yet very dif- 
ferent appearance— one of commanding mm and sta- 
ture, a calm, thoughtful, resolute face, deliberate of move- 
ment; the other of medium height, but muscular mould, 
and firm-set features almost fierce in expression. The 
first was Seth Warner, the other Remember Baker, both 
kinsmen of the Aliens and leaders in the opposition to 
New York claimants. 
"Well, gentlemen," said Allen, taking up a candle and 
leading the way, "let us go and sit in the judgment 
seat." And therewith he and his colleagues left the bar- 
room and could be heard tramping up the stairs and into 
the afterward famous council chamber, while Kinelm and 
Josiah were left to eat their "tuckernuck" supper, with 
only the hostler and a couple of mugs of flip for their 
company. 
In those primitive times it was no offense to the inn- 
holder nor shame to the traveler to carry his own pro- 
visions and eat them by the barroom fire, and this was 
called "traveling tuckernuck," a name that smacks of 
Indian origin, as the custom does of the practice of the 
red wayfarer, whose sole dependence was on his bag of 
no-cake, a parched, pounded corn, and his hunk of 
dryed venison, eked out by such game as he chanced to 
kill. Our travelers also adopted this plan a little later, 
when the old ranger would strike into the woods skirt- 
ing the road and pick up a partridge or a wild pigeon. 
Chat. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
I don't remember how long ago it was, but so long that 
the thought of it makes me feel old, that I found myself 
in the company of a lot of old railroad conductors in a 
favorite resort" where conviviality, congeniality and shop 
talk were the principal features of the meeting. In the 
company was a retired veteran from the Erie Railroad, an 
inimitable story teller with an inexhaustible fund of 
anecdotes, wit, and a habit of winding up his stories with 
the query, "What was it Susan B. Anthony said?" and 
whether it was Susan B. or Mark Antony, the in- 
variable answer was, "It's a long time between drinks." 
Whereupon the party called for their favorite lemonade. 
All of which is a round-about way of saying that it's a 
long time since any screed of mine has occupied the 
valuable space of Forest and Stream, 
When congenial companions converse, time and words 
flow so smoothly that one is little apt to take heed of 
either, and the "wee sma' hours" sometimes finds tongues 
still wagging, and, if they are smokers, clouds still rolling, 
but when it comes to writing and one has to do all the 
talking, time and words must be considered, and the one 
who does it is puzzled for choice of subject that may be 
agreeable to the reader. 
After reading the many good things in Forest and 
Stream to-night, I feel like one who has shared, without 
contributing, the pleasures of congenial company, and the 
spirit moves me to say something. Whether my talk may 
have interest or not, it is an overflow of the feelings and 
must come forth. 
Now, as to the word "sportsman," I don't know what 
we might substitute for one who loves to hunt or fish, 
but the word seems too broad. Nowadays anyone who 
carries a gun is called a sportsman. He may be anything 
else. I have seen men, and unfortunately been with some 
who carried the finest accoutrements, commanded the best 
dogs, and talked enthusiastically of game protection, 
whose whole ambition in the field seemed to be to carry 
home a full bag, and to accomplish that end they labored 
harder and showed more discontent over failure than 
they would in any day of successful or unsuccessful busi- 
ness at home. The ethics of the chase and the surround- 
ings of nature had no interest for them whatever. At 
home these men were called sportsmen because they 
hunted. But I am glad to say that I know many more 
men whose dispositions are quite the reverse, and they are 
called sportsmen, too. 
My hunting instinct was encouraged by a man who 
loved his gun and dog more than the game they brought 
him. It was his greatest pleasure to roam the woods, and 
I have seen him sit on a log watching a grouse scratch- 
ing for its dinner, or a squirrel chattering its saucy 
defiance, while his eyes twinkled with the enjojTOent of the 
scene and his gun lay across his knee without a thought of 
using it. I was a boy then, and the days were halcyon 
when my "Sam Lovel" permitted me to accompany him. 
What he did not know about the woods and the habits of 
his quarry was hardly worth knowing, and what enjoy- 
ment he did not get out of them was worth less. Why. 
he didn't care whether he came home with a backload oi 
game or nothing at all. Frequently it was nothing, but I 
knew that if he wanted the backload he could get it. 
He believed that a good man's reward is to return to 
earth and participate in all the enjoyments of life and 
wanted nothing better than he had here. 
I am much interested in the recountals of other's good 
times afield or afloat. What a world of fun some of us 
have in our traA^-els. May be not all fun, either. There 
are some disagreeable incidents that were better forgot- 
ten, but they all go to make up the pleasures, and, after 
all, one sometimes thinks of them in the light that they 
intensify the pleasures. 
Once, while trout fishing on a favorite stream, I ap- 
proached the head of a large, deep pool in which I knew 
there were some lordly fellows. A large tree lay across 
the stream, and as I lifted my foot to step over it I was 
greeted by the clatter of a rattler on the other side. 
While studying how I should get around, r-r-r-rattle on 
my right made me jump back, when r-r-r-rattle in the 
rear hurried me into the middle of the stream. I crawled 
under the log and got a ducking. When I arose I had 
the extreme pleasure of seeing the first rattler glide away 
into the bushes. That was one of the disagreeable inci- 
dents of trout fishing, but I look back to it with pleasure, 
for after my scare was over I hauled two iiin. trout out 
of the pool. 
On another occasion, while sneaking along the bank of 
a trout stream in order to reach a favorite pool without 
jarring the bank, I was startled by a terrific snort and the 
crash of dry brush not more than loft. ahead of me. 
When I collected my senses the big buck that had been 
lying in the shade, was bounding a hundred yards away. 
How he came to let me get so close to him T am 
unable to understand, unless he was asleep. The scare 
was disagreeable, but the sight of tbe big chap as he 
bounded so gracefully away, comes back to me as a beauti- 
ful picture. 
I tracked a deer once so far, expecting to see him any 
moment, as I came upon his droppings still smoking, and 
an occasional form where he had lain down, that it became 
dark, and I was lost, and had to spend the night in the 
woods. But I had matches, and built a fire, and after a 
hearty supper from my. haversadc, with my pipe for 
company, I got along pretty well until morning, when I 
took the back track for home. 
I was too green then to know that the buck was 
aware of my presence all the time, and was leading 
me a hard chase, while he was saving his energy for time 
of need. I say the buck, for the tracks were so big that 
I thought it could be nothing else, and a more fortunate 
hunter shot a large buck the next morning on the same 
line that I had been following. That was a disagreeable 
night's camp, because I was tired, and a misty rain set in 
to soften the snow and dampen my ardor. Yet I think I 
should like to try it again, for the remembrance of the 
comfortable smoke and the flickering camp-fire comes back 
to me with less unpleasantness than it seemed then. Still 
I should prefer a companion to talk to and smoke with, if 
he is the right kind. 
Speaking of reason vs. instinct in dogs, I once owned a 
black setter that in leisure moments was my almost con- 
stant companion. I frequently took him to the office 
with me, where he M^ould lie by my chair until I re- 
turned home. But as there were two railroad tracks to 
cross and constant traffic, I was fearful that he might 
be killed, and decided to leave him at home. One day 
after I had left the house, my wife's attention was at- 
tracted to the door by vigorous scratching and bark- 
ing, and upon opening it was greeted by a tug at her 
dress and a streak of vanishing dog toward the gate. 
Going to see what was the matter, she opened the gate to 
look out, when Dot pushed through, and in five minutes 
was at the office, displaying as well as a dog can his 
pleasure over his cleverness. Was that reason or in- 
stinct? To me it looks like reason. 
With a hearty invitation to spend a week in a good 
game country next fall, I am already anticipating. My 
guns and paraphernalia are in splendid condition, and 
the time seems long, but anticipation is a mighty good 
substitute for the real thing in close season. But I 
shall miss my best companion, the old dog who died 
last winter, and it will be hard to get another. 
J. H. B. 
Pennsylvania. 
Things of Night. 
Bonaventure Pilon, somewhat disgruntled, puf back 
the rifle in the old torn canvas cover. 
"Pourquoi pas?" he asked. 
"I Avant to see them, that is all, Bonaventure. Just to 
paddle around." 
The half-breed grunted. There was no understanding 
the man from the city. Last winter they had tramped to- 
gether, and with an infinity of hard work had secured 
some good heads. In the fall they had successfully 
guiled a couple of moose with the birch bark horn, after 
several days of useless endeavor, but now that a fat 
deer could be got with no trouble, the eager pale man 
told him to leave the rifle in the tent. 
The canoe seemed to drift away from the shore, and 
to make its way over the waters in a ghostly fashion. 
Not even a dripping from the paddle could be heard. 
The lighted jack at the bow turned into mvriad gems 
the ripples raised by the soft night breeze, and all else 
around seemed a solid blackness, permeated by the har- 
monies of woodland night. From ever so far away came 
the sorrowing plaint of the loon, as of some eldritch 
thing hopelessly calling for a lost vision of happiness. 
The waving leaves upon the shores seemed attuned to 
a low grave chant, in which constantly recurred the same 
motive, as in some ancient rune sung low in olden 
times, in unknown tongues, to the melody of the harps 
of hidden minstrelsy. Strident cries of night-hawks 
overhead, sometimes near, then far, and further still, 
and the iterating sadness of the whippoorwill's cry, and 
the spooky voice of a great-horned owl i)erched high 
upon a blasted pine, all joined the mighty sound of the 
unfettered world at night, and blended with its great 
voice, and kept time to its strain, and lulled the slumber- 
ing earth with the marvelous strong harmony which 
some, hearing not, term the silence of the night. 
So we floated on, and into the mouth of the stream, 
and the murmuring water rippled softly over the gravelly 
bar, with a little lullaby of its own, as if to keep good 
heart against the perils of its long journey into unknown 
worlds. Further on it seemed awed with its own daring, 
and stopped in a deep pool for a while. Here, on one 
edge of the tiny mere, near reeds that whispered soft 
thmgs to some shade of night, the brilliant light fell 
upon a few ducks that, awakening, arose with much 
splashing and disappeared in the surrounding gloom. 
As the light fell upon a clump of alders by the water's 
edge a blue heron awoke suddenly, and in an ecstasy of 
fear he arose with a hoarse cry, with loudlv flapping 
wings, bewildered and knowing not which way to go. 
As the canoe glided on, the stream narrowed once more, 
and again the water rippled over the shoals, and became 
deeper in turn, and then little black forms in the water 
came near, and with a tiny splash dived down, or left a 
silvery streak in the path of light ahead, and wondered 
why this strange phenomenon should disturb honest 
muskrats. The canoe glided on softly, and presently 
came to a place where a little island stands in the tiny 
river, and is surrounded by reeds, and the canoe thrilled 
and shook gently, for Bonaventure could not forbear to 
give the signal, though the rifle had been left home, and 
in the circle of hght ahead shone two Inminous points. 
Faintly we could see the head and branching antlers, and 
the lithe graceful body, ghost-like and uncertain. ' The 
buck gave his blowing hiss, and slowly moved, stiU 
wondering at the Hght that streamed from out of the 
blackness of the night. And as he quietly stepped away 
it followed him like some uncanny thing, and of k 
sudden he was stricken Avith the terror of the unknown, 
and dashed crazily away, and the sound of his fleeing 
footsteps Avas lost on the wooded island. 
So the canoe turned, and we retraced the same way. 
and cstne out upon the lake sgain, where th? night wind 
